Alive Again
by ouhoh
Summary: Begins after season 6 and follows Ziva's mission to kill Saleem in Somalia up to her rescue. Will contain elements if torture and may be moved up in rating later. Possible Tiva later. Multi chapter fic. Please read and review! First story so be kind!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don not own the cover image but thank you to whoever made it, it's beautiful.**

**NCIS is not mine (obviously)**

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_There it is_, she thought to herself.

The night was dark and cold. Ziva lay still, crouched behind a boulder near the large compound that housed a terrorist cell. _I guess that courier was right after all,_ she thought, _Maybe I should not have killed him...no, the mission must be completed, whatever the price._

Her departure from NCIS left Ziva with an intense need to prove herself once more, to show she was deserving of trust. Feelings of betrayal still bubbled up at the memory of her departure with NCIS. _How could Gibbs turn his back on me so easily? They've betrayed me. Ducky, Abby, McGee, Gibbs..._

_Tony._

_Focus, Ziva! You have a mission to complete!_

She quickly blew out a breath she didn't know she was holding, "Right," She said to herself. Ziva stood from behind her hiding spot and made her way around the camp.

She took inventory of the men guarding entrances. _Two...three...five...six too many_. They appeared distracted by each other, mumbling in what appeared to be Arabic. The smoke from their cigarettes weighed heavily on the already dry air of the Somalian desert.

After some scouting she found that this was the entrance least heavily guarded. She had have no weapons, no back up, and no escape route. She was going to have to take a risk.

And that's exactly what she did.

She snuck up on one man and quickly snapped his neck; she watched as it hung sickly on his shoulders like a cheap marionette before his corpse fell to the ground with a dull thud.

Another man came from her left, threw a punch and missed. She quickly punched him in the throat, and as he choked she gave him a swift kick to face, knocking him to the ground. A particularly pungent man came from behind and put a choke hold her. This was easily handled but resulted in her distraction. It allowed two of the remaining three to attack her full force. As they struggled, she saw him. A young man, one of the six guards, had run off during the attack and called for reinforcements. Eight other grimy looking guards were jogging towards them.

_No, _Ziva thought_, you have not come this far to be outdone by some common criminals. America has made me soft._

She punched and kicked and struggled as hard as she could, but it was too late. These men, were after all, men, and thus a lot bigger than her. Ten against one, the odds were never in herfavor.

They managed to knock her to the ground, face first. One of the guards quickly and roughly tied her hands behind her back; he kneeled on top of her and let his right knee dig into the area between her shoulder blades. The dirt was getting into her eyes and her heavy breathing carried it into her dry lungs. They searched her for weapons and found a small knife sheathed onto the side of her boot.

_You idiot, Ziva! How could you have forgotten about that?_

They pulled her up by her restraints so that she was kneeling. She looked down and noticed a pair of worn out cream colored boots in front if her. She turned her gaze up and saw him.

Saleem.

He took a long drag from his cigarette and knelt down on one knee in front of her,"Pretty woman. What are you doing here darling, did you get lost?" He had a moderate accent that made her fear for her life; not because he scared her but because he was not who she expected. This man appeared more civilized than the rest. He was smaller than most of the men but held a very high position of power. He carried himself with a demeanor she had only seen in America. _Perhaps_...

She didn't have time to finish her thoughts. He said something to one of the guards behind her. A man circled around in front if her and hit her across the face with the butt of his gun and knocked her to the ground once more. When it didn't knock her out another guard kicked her in the ribs, forcing the breath out of her lungs. It became a game and one by one each guard took their shot at Ziva until she was so disoriented, she could be dragged to a cell without much fuss. And that's what they did.

They zip-tied her to a creaky wooden chair and shut the door. It closed with a chilling slam and suddenly it was quiet. The commotion she had caused was dead and nothing but the occasional echo of a guards laugher could be heard from these walls.

She was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**I fixed the errors in the previous chapter so all is good. Please review! I can't make it better if I don't know what to improve on! A little motivation doesn't hurt either. **

** Disclaimer: I own nothing but if I did Ziva would still be on the show**

**Please review! motivate me to keep going**

**The italics are all Ziva's thoughts. Just an FYI**

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_Stay calm...stay calm...breathe...focus! What happened to "never be captured alive"?_

Ziva tried to remain calm as she absorbed the situation. She was bound to the chair with a type of strong zip-tie, as were her feet. The night made it difficult to determine how big the room was; bright light shone from behind her, indicating a large window teasing the illusion of freedom—mocking her.

Ziva willed herself to stay awake, to defiantly look Saleem in the eye and taunt him, because whatever it was he wanted, she was going to make sure he didn't get it. _Stubbornness, Eli calls it. I call it strength_, Ziva thought. Eli David, the man the man she gleefully called Aba as a child. A form of affection, of love. Now all she had was hatred.

_How could my own father send me a rogue officer?_ Ziva questioned angrily, _How could he knowingly put me in danger? And now, I wonder if this is his doing to. After all, Mossad takes precedence over everything, even family. His hands are clean, they are always clean. He sent me to kill his son—my brother. I thank God Tali did not live to see him like this. Ima knew, she always knew…_

Ziva's thoughts eventually fade into an uncomfortable sleep. There is silence all around, a biting, gnawing silence that makes people crazy. Who could have guessed that this large and quiet compound housed men dedicated to destruction and pain. No one, and if no one suspects, no one knows. If no one knows where, then they don't know how she is there. As far as the world is concerned, Ziva is in Israel; she is safe and by no means in any danger. Only Eli has an idea as to the whereabouts of his only surviving child. Only Eli knows, but does not care because Mossad matters must come first. Mossad, the Mossad...

She is woken the next day by an uncomfortable burning sensation on the back of her neck. She looks around and realizes it's morning, and morning in a desert means heat, lots of heat. She is just far away enough from the window to not be completely submerged in its sunlight but also close enough to the shade to be powerless as to move towards it. So close, so very close to the cool shade, but not enough.

She hears heavy footsteps approaching the cell door directly in front of her. Here they come. _I must stay silent, no matter what, I must not tell them anything_. There's a pause before the door is unlatched. It is pushed open with such ease as to create an uncomfortable suspense. Saleem calmly walks through the creaky door. His guard quickly shuts it, but not before glancing at her, giving her a sadistic smile.

"You never answered my question," He says with a smirk. He glances at her, noticing the determined look on her face, "How rude of me, I have not properly introduced myself," His previously calm demeanor turns violent as he swiftly grabs her hair and yanks it back. Ziva gasps at the suddenness of his actions. He leans into her, so closely their noses almost touch; he says, in a harsh whisper, "My name is Saleem Ulman and I do not particularly enjoy surprise guests." He slowly grows angry and eventually build up to yelling at Ziva, "Least of all are those that come into my camps and murder my men!"

Saleem waits for her response, still very close to her face, his grip tight on her hair. He is panting at the exhaust of his outburst. Ziva nibbles on the inside of her bottom lip as her face twitches with an intense desire to retaliate. _I must stay silent...I must stay silent…_

Noticing her defiance, Saleem's anger fades into a humorless laugh. He gently lets go of her hair and walks towards a table to Ziva's right. He leans against it and lights a fresh cigarette from his pocket. Ziva studies him, and watches as he lets out an almost pitiful sigh.

"My my, look at the mess you have gotten yourself into," He pushes himself off the table and begins to pace around her. _It is a way to establish control, relax. He wants to make you feel trapped and powerless_ Ziva tells herself, _But I am_ she thinks again, grimly.

"I find it...odd that you show up here immediately after I have lost men to American 'counter-terrorist' attacks," he pauses in front of her and looks up, "Terrorists. They were martyrs for the cause" He looks down at her and asks, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?" he asks in an innocently curious tone. _He tilts his head like a dog would at hearing an unknown sound_. Ziva can't help but visibly laugh at this thought.

"Was that funny to you, woman?" He turns angry again._ Damn it, Ziva_… "I asked you question and I expect an answer!" This time he does more than yank her hair. He backhands her, forcing her head the right. He roughly grabs her chin and pulls her head up to look at him, "You will pay for your ignorance." he says through gritted teeth.

He storms out of the cell and disappears into the corridor. The door is slammed shut and she is alone again.

_What were you thinking!_ Ziva scolds herself. She tries to relax, reminding herself she is trained to endure torture. This is what Mossad taught her, what Eli taught her. This is who they have made her. A drone, trained to take orders and endure in the most extreme conditions._ I guess now we will find out if Eli trained me well_, she thinks bitterly as she hears those haunting footsteps approach the cell door once more.

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**Review, review!**

**Next chapter will be much longer so stay tuned!**


	3. Chapter 3

**NCIS is not mine**

**please review! I would very much appreciate feedback!**

**The text in the italic "_" belongs to our mystery visitors**

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Saleem storms in once more, only this time he brings company: a tall, dark skinned man with scars on his face and hands walks behind him. _The interrogator_, Ziva thinks fearfully.

"Meet Addanc," Saleem moves towards the table and sets down the pouch he was carrying, "everyone here calls him Adda..." He trails off as he takes two bottles from the pouch and a needle and sets them on the table.

"I am not above torturing women. I will not hold back," He turns to her and continues "You have two choices here: you either answer my questions peacefully and truthfully, or Adda here hurts you." Ziva offers no immediate response to his questions. Her eyes remain locked on the containers, "Ah, yes the containers!" He takes them both and walks in front of her, holding up both containers for her to see, "I am a smart man, and smart men go to American schools. I made these during my time at Yale University. Beautiful campus, it was. One of these containers holds sodium penthonol, the other an unstable concoction of chemicals that causes hypersensitivity to pain, hallucinations and, in some cases, a painful death. It's been nicknamed, Ambrosia. I find it a ridiculous name, the Gods would never drink this." He puts the containers down in the table and asks, "So, which will it be?"

Ziva stares ahead, determined to resist. She tries to control her breathing and remain calm.

"You disappoint me." He pushes himself off the table and walks towards Adda, who is leaning against the far left corner. Saleem places a hand on his shoulder and whispers, "Don't leave this room without her name. Use the Ambrosia as you see fit, but try not to kill this one. Understood?" He nods and smiles as Saleem walks out of the cell, "Be careful, I am watching." That's when Ziva notices the small camera mounted on the top left corner of the room.

Ziva swallows her fear as she is left alone with the big man. Adda approaches her and looks her curiously in the eye before punching her so hard, the chair shifts a little, "What is your name?" he asks in a deep, chilling voice. Ziva, still recovering from the blow says nothing. Adda takes this moment to undo the binds to her hands and feet. He puts new restraints on her wrists and ties them together before turning his back to her.

Ziva takes this opportunity to retaliate. She launches herself up and wraps her bound wrists around his neck, hanging all her weight on him in an attempt to choke him. But this man is strong, he takes hold of her and in a blur Ziva is slammed onto the ground, knocking the breath out of her. He straddles her and begins to punch her repeatedly.

Ziva feels pain all over the left side of her face. _He's not stopping, why is he not stopping..._

She hears a crack and feels warm fluid begin to ooze from her nose, making it hard to breath. Adda picks her up by the collar of her dirty shirt and slams her against the wall. He asks again, "What is your name?" Her face begins to swell; she can taste the blood running from her nose in the back of her throat. She weakly spits in his face. Adda slams his knuckles into her abdomen. Ziva leans into him before he lets her fall to the ground, doubled over herself in pain, gasping for air her lungs so desperately crace. Adda leans down, hands on his knees, and asks again, "What is your name?"

Ziva can't form a verbal answer so she simply shakes her head No.

Adda lets out a tired sigh and says, "If you do not help me, I will hurt you." He walks over to the table and takes a dose of the "Ambrosia" into a needle. He approaches a disoriented Ziva and injects the serum into the back of her neck. She winces at his actions and takes advantage of his close proximity to lash out again. She weakly slugs him before gasping out in pain.

"The serum is fast-acting. Let's see how much of it you can take," he picks her up once again and throws her across the room. He looks up at the camera and says something in Arabic. A minute later a guard comes through the door with a car battery and some wires. He pulls Ziva up and sits her in the chair. The zip-ties are wrapped tightly around her ankles and wrists.

_Every movement hurts..._

_"Well did you think he was lying?"_ Ziva looks past Adda, who is busy setting things up, and sees a familiar face.

"Tali..."

Adda looks up from his work at Ziva, "What was that?" Ziva looks down, refusing to acknowledge his question, "Very well then. If you you do not help me, I will hurt you."

_"He is right"_, Tali says. She walks up to Ziva and strokes her forehead, _"My dear sister, what has Aba done to you now?"_

Ziva closes her eyes and leans into the imaginary touch of her dead sister. It feels real, so real and so distant. She can feel the texture of her sister's hands. _Soft_. A lone tar makes its way down her cheek. Ziva hates herself for allowing the hallucination to take hold of her, but she can't help it. _It's a hallucination, you are hallucinating, Ziva_. She opens her eyes and Tali is gone and Ziva mourns the loss of her figmented memory forged under the effects of a vile serum.

"This is your last chance," Adda's voice brings Ziva back to reality; the reality that hurts, literally and figuratively. She realizes that while she was hallucinating, he hooked the wires up to her wrists and chest.

She looks him in the eye, almost contemplating telling him her name. _What harm could that do?_ She thinks to herself, _If they find out your name and who you are related to they will surely kill you!_

Adda kneels down and places his hand on a switch hooked up to the car battery, "Very well then..."

To say that what came next hurt would be an extreme understatement. The electric current ripped through her body like a storm. Everything from the ends of her feet to the core if her teeth trembled with pain. She let out a blood curling scream that bounced off the walls of the cell and back into her mouth. Her back was arched against the chair like her soul was being sucked out of her. Ziva's skull felt like it was splitting into a million pieces, her flesh felt as though it was being boiled in thousand degree heat.

And then, it stopped. What felt like ages of pain lasted only a few seconds. She leans forward, heavily, trembling in pain, gasping for air. The current shocks her lungs and for a second, Ziva forgets how to breath. Her eyes are watery and her face shows no emotion other than agony and relief.

Adda stands up and circles behind her. He places both his hands on either side of the chair's at rests, leans in, and asks curtly, "What is your name, darling?"

Still dazed from the shock and on the verge of passing out, she replies, defeated, "Ziva, my name is Ziva..."

"See? That was not so hard, now was it, Ziva?" He walks around again and stops in front of her. "That is a pretty name." He considers furthering the interrogation but decides not to. He unhooks the wires from Ziva and puts everything into the far right corner near the table. "I will let Saleem know how well you did today," he walks over to the door, "Maybe he will let me come back tomorrow." he laughs before knocking on the door. A guard quickly opens it, unlocking it from the outside. The door is shut and locked, but his sick laughter is still audible from the hall.

Ziva sits as still as possible in the chair. Any movement causes discomfort. _Why did he stop? Why did he not keep going?_

_"Because he said he would only hurt you when you didn't help him, Ziva"_

"Not now, please..." Ziva suts her eyes as she recognizes the voice of a haunting hallucination.

_"You can't will me away, Ziva. Besides, you never really said goodbye to me in Israel."_ Tony walks up to Ziva and squats in front of her to meet her fallen gaze._ "How is this any better than working with me? You shoulda come back, Mossad doesn't care about you," _he walks around the room, examining crevices and the dust around the walls in his usual DiNozzo way.

"Just leave, Tony, please,"

_"I'm not going anywhere and neither are you."_ He leans up against the table, _"I mean look at where you're at, Ziva! You're thousands of miles away from DC, your dad's probably already declared you dead,"_ he tilts his head and asks, _" Who's lookin' for ya? Huh? Who cares?"_

"Shut up! Just leave get out of here!" Ziva yells with closed eyes, as if to will him away with a single thought.

She peers open her eyes and looks around. Saleem is standing where imaginary Tony was standing, against the table. _When did he come in?_

"My, my," he takes a drag from his cigarette and let's it out into the dry air. "That is no way to treat your host, now is it, Ziva?"

He takes one last huff from his cigarette before walking toward her and putting it out on the ground with his boot. He takes hold of her chin and tilts her head up, "Adda did his job well." He eyes her face, assessing the damage. "That will heal improperly if it is not set correctly," before Ziva can determine what he's talking about, he brings his other hand up and sets her broken nose. His actions make Ziva cry out again, and this time tears flow freely from her eyes.

"There, there," Saleem coos, almost kindly, "this is only the beginning."

And with that he walks out of the cell and leaves Ziva in a frenzy of pain and emotion. She sits uncomfortably in the chair, heat digging into her back. She looks down at her wrists and notices the burnt, raw flesh from the electrocution. Her struggles allowed the zip-ties to dig into her.

She tries to ignore the nausea and bile building up in the back of her throat.

_Perhaps this is justified. Maybe this is God's way of allowing me to pay for me sins. All the men I killed, all the pain I caused..._

_I do not deserve to be saved._

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